


Comfort In Pain

by DealingDearie



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DealingDearie/pseuds/DealingDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt takes it upon himself-using a rather unconventional method-to get Logan to stop moping around after Jean's death. Whether it works or not is a whole different story. Friendship! one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort In Pain

Grief is strong, Kurt knows this. He's no stranger to the sharp sting of sorrow as it works a path through his heart, and he's learned to control that pain-over time.

He also knows that people are generally unfriendly, and the only exceptions to such a rule would be the Professor and Storm, both mutants trying as hard as they can to be the better example for humanity.

But there might be a third exception, Kurt thinks as he creeps down the hall, careful to not make a sound in fear of waking a student from their heavy slumber. He manages to make it all the way to the roomy kitchen without a single noise, save for one awfully creaky floorboard he had quickly flitted over, and is genuinely surprised that he's not the only one up at such an ungodly hour of the night-or morning, really.

Logan is slumped across the island in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by half empty beer bottles and overturned coke glasses that have seen better days, some a bit smashed and broken around the edges, as if he squeezed them too hard. He doesn't look up from where he's finishing off another bottle, his claws extended on one hand as if to ward away unwanted company, and Kurt takes the hint, turning around to make a beeline for his room, when he hears a softly mumble name.

"Jean," Logan drunkenly murmurs, and the heady pain lying within the word sends Kurt's heart out to the guy, who's had a rough time dealing with so much death.

Kurt himself had felt saddened by the telekenetic's sacrifice, the peeks he had taken into her true nature making him feel like the world had just lost something special, but he wasn't overtaken with his emotions. He was aware of her passing, briefly grieving a friend he could have had, but he was happy for her, knowing that she rested well within God's holy embrace. That was why he never let sorrow hold his heart for too long.

If he could focus on that dimly shining beacon of hope in the corner of his eye, then he could live his days at peace.

Kurt turns back around, taking a deep breath as he hesitates. If he can do it, then so can Logan, and he walks into the kitchen just loud enough to alert the man of his presence, so that he doesn't get impaled by those dangerously sharp claws. Logan spares him a hazy glance and frowns, as if he could think of a million people he'd rather spend his time with, and goes back to finishing off his drink before slamming it down on the counter, making Kurt flinch.

Quickly, Kurt hurries over to clean the counter, ridding it of the hazardous-and noisy-bottles and carefully dumping them in the trash can while the other mutant watches, dark eyes following his every movement. Kurt thinks to leave, a fleeting moment of indecision that's quickly destroyed by the image of Ororo.

 _Ororo_ , who holds Logan high among her friends.

 _Ororo_ , who would frown on Kurt's leaving, especially if there was something he could have done to help Logan's pain.

Kurt sighs with a frown as he reluctantly collapses onto a nearby stool, still very aware of the claws at his side, and he glances over to Logan, his eyes glowing in the dim lighting as he smiles awkwardly, his overlarge fangs peeking out at the other man as he does. Wolverine rolls his eyes and points to the door.

"I don't want to skewer my friend's boyfri-whatever you two are-and I sure as hell don't want to get too drunk and start babbling, so you might as well head for the door, bud," he warns lowly, eyeing Nightcrawler's tail with suspicion as it swishes back and forth between them, absently curling at the tip. Kurt resists the urge to comply and shakes his head gently.

"It will get better, you know," he offers shyly, and the blue of his skin seems like shadows in the moonlight dancing through the open window, the intricate runes on his face giving off the impression of wisps of smoke curling in on one another. Logan frowns, his brow furrowed, squinting over at the man.

"What?"

And whether it's because he's having trouble understanding the ghost of an accent lying beneath Kurt's voice, made almost dormant by years of living in Boston, or because he's in denial, Kurt isn't sure, so he just gives a slight smile and looks away, feeling far too awkward for his liking. He runs one of his three large fingers over a ring on the counter, no doubt made by one of the bottles previously strewn about the place, and winces as his nail scratches against the marble.

"The grief, and the pain- it will all go away soon enough," he murmurs reassuringly, glancing over at Logan with a friendly gleam in his eyes, just before he scoots back in his chair, put off by Logan's near snarl as the man extends all of his claws, pointing them at Nightcrawler.

"You better know damn well what you're doing, and what you're saying. I don't need some religious freak telling me about my own damn emotions, ok?" Logan growls hoarsely, and Kurt raises his eyes to see the fury in the man's face, the raging fire burning behind his stare, the raw pain written across his expression.

And perhaps it is the lighting, or the echo of Ororo's voice in his head, or God speaking to him, but Kurt swears that he can see behind the mask, and what he knows in his heart is that Logan is hurting and in desperate need of comfort. He doesn't let anyone in, though, so the teleporter decides to force his way in.

With a smirk that could rival that of the devil's, Nighcrawler leans forward to press the bottom of his chin to the end of one of the glistening blades protruding from Logan's knuckles, and the wicked gleam in his eyes isn't entirely just for show.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Kurt asks, mock pouting as he stares down the sharp blades, and the change of his demeanor throws Logan for a brief loop, tilting his head over at him as he frowns.

"Yeah…what are you-"

And then Kurt's tail whips out, pulling Logan's feet out from under him, yanking him out of his seat as he lands none too softly upon the marble floor, and he grunts as he picks himself up. Kurt flips off of his chair-and does a backflip just for show-and lands right in front of Logan's face, staring down at him as he smiles sharply, jagged edges of teeth shining in the darkness, and Logan clambers up, outraged.

"I'm gonna kill you, you little-"

Nightcrawler lashes out with his tail and flips the mutant over a second time, a bone cracking somewhere within him as he lands again, and a low moan sounds through the kitchen, but Logan heals just as quickly, scrambling for purchase as he runs at Kurt, who's currently murmuring hurtful insults in his direction, and annoying the living hell out of Logan as he lunges. The blue wisps of color that accompany the smell of brimstone lie in Kurt's wake as he appears in another corner of the kitchen, and Logan yells at the top of his lungs, not caring who he wakes up.

"Do you mourn _her_ or the fantasy that she loved you?" Kurt asks viciously, and he has a moment of regret at the statement as Logan swipes his claws across his arm, creating a gash in his skin that stings immensely. He winces and hops onto the counter, his giant feet allowing him a wide range of balance as he dodges Logan's anger.

"Or do you feel bad for betraying Scott?"

He teleports just before Wolverine can run his claws through Kurt's leg, and he appears at the ceiling, his tail curling around a light fixture as he sways back and forth, hanging upside down with a teasing smile. Blood trickles down his face and he wipes at it, surprised to find a small cut just below his eye, the delayed pain ripping through his adrenaline as he calms his pounding heart, dropping from the ceiling to land, cat-like and gracefully, back on steady ground, and bends over backwards to avoid another cut on his face. He brings his arm up to block another blow, and catches Logan's other arm with his large hand, smirking when the man has difficulty getting his hand back.

The German notices the small crowd of students and adults forming at the doorway, but ignores them all, even the worriedly shining eyes of Storm, who stands at the front of the group.

"Why do you mourn her so much, when she wasn't even yours to begin with?" Kurt whispers, nearly face to face with Wolverine, and the man's eyes tear up as he tries to punch Kurt in the face, but the man ducks to avoid it and catches Logan's fist with his other hand.

He pulls Logan closer, so that only they can hear his words, and he shakes his head. "Why?"

Logan rips one hand out of his grasp and hits Kurt hard, cutting the skin with the sharp bones of his knuckles, and Kurt shakes his head to stop its ringing, looking back at Logan with glowing eyes full of understanding, shimmering with pain.

"Because I didn't save her", Logan hisses weakly, pounding his freed fists against Kurt's chest as he loses his voice, "I didn't save her when I should have and now she's gone." Kurt holds his hands still and frowns.

"You _couldn't_ save her, Logan," Kurt whispers lowly, but the sparkle in Ororo's eyes tells him that she hears them both, her face set in a stoic mask.

"You could not save her, and every single person in this school is mourning just the same as you are." He glances over to Storm, stifling a soft smile at her presence.

"There is no need to shut yourself away from those who care. Jean wouldn't want you to feel like this, and you know it."

Logan's angered expression melts into one of careful aloofness at the man's words, and he shakes his head, pulling his arms away from Kurt's grip, and he smothers his emotion quickly, aware of the onlookers behind them.

"Like I said, I don't need anybody getting in my business." His voice is rough, recovering from such a display of weakness, and it grates on Kurt's ears. He starts to walk away, and as he turns, Kurt lets out a long sigh.

"She's in a better place, Logan-a place where mutants and humans alike are free and equal, and there is no suffering."

Logan's shoulders tense, but he just keeps walking, and Kurt finds the sting on his face and arm all the worse for the man's absence, the man that, among many other people in Kurt's life, could have been his friend once upon a time, once upon a moment.

...

Currently regretting his stubborn decision to refuse Storm's medical aid, Kurt rubs at the cuts on his face, the bleeding finally quelled.

His arm burns with the movement, but he can't find the moment to care, as he sits, splayed out across the couch in the commons room. No one's there, either for fear of Logan coming in and starting another fight or for fear of being stuck in an awkward conversation, he's not sure.

He's never really sure, these days, and he clutches at his rosary beads, a small prayer leaving his lips as he asks for forgiveness.

He was cruel to Logan, unnecessarily so, and the memory of it hurts Kurt more than the rune will, the promise of pain waiting for him when he leaves to retire to his room, a small scalpel and bandage sitting upon his desk. He runs a finger over one of the marks on his face and thinks of the one he's going to have to add, before he hears a noise, startling him out of his comfortable position on the couch as he turns.

Logan stands just at the threshold, leaning against the aged doorframe with his arms crossed, and Kurt is relieved to see that the man is unscathed, no bruises or cuts to be seen-even though they would have healed by now, anyway. Nervously, his tail twitches, and he turns back around to stare at the black TV screen, too tired to get up and search for the remote, and too sore to get involved in another fight, no matter his intentions the first time around. He sees, in the dark reflection of the screen, Logan walking up to him, and swallows, worriedly biting his bottom lip in anticipation of another scuffle, but the mutant stops just behind him, putting an arm on Kurt's shoulder.

"Sorry I roughed you up," he apologizes lowly, twisting his mouth here and there because he doesn't know what to say, and Kurt winces as he turns around, ignoring the pain in his limbs.

"It's ok. I've been cut before," Kurt offers, smiling at his own inside joke, and Logan's eyes light up with understanding as he smirks.

"Yeah, about that. You don't have to, uh, add another one," he says, gesturing to the countless runes vividly swirling across Kurt's dark skin. "You didn't do anything wrong today."

Kurt starts forward, about to justify his own argumentative reasoning, before Logan puts up a hand to stop him.

"You…helped. Thanks, for that," he grinds out hesitantly, and he runs a hand through his dark hair, messing the style up in the process, and turns on his heel, walking back through the door before stopping, turning his head to the side to glance back at the teleporter staring after him.

"And I guess you're not a freak, after all," he offers, a small smile gracing his hardened features as he swivels, a characteristic belonging entirely to Nightcrawler, "More like an elf, right?"

With a lasting smirk, Logan disappears down the hall, the thumping sound of his footfalls fading after a few seconds, and Kurt turns back around, staring at the dark screen in front of him, a smile spreading across his face, his dark blue hair falling into his eyes as he nods slowly. The warmest feeling crawls up his spine as he laughs to himself, his mind whirring with excitement.

Maybe, just maybe, Kurt doesn't have to feel so alone, with Ororo by his side.

And maybe that moment, once upon a time, doesn't have to be so far away.

**Author's Note:**

> Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)  
> All rights go to their respective owners.


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